


The Inconveniences of Living a Super-Powered Life

by HighlyOpinionatedNerd



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: I am aware of this please don't yell at me, a series of headcanons, anyway, every chapter is a different character, headcanons about various Justice League members, mentions of different relationships but too many to tag properly, mentions of violence/past trauma/other general suffering, most of these are probably not canon, open to suggestions of what character to do next, please enjoy, read that again: headcanons!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-14 01:59:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12997359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HighlyOpinionatedNerd/pseuds/HighlyOpinionatedNerd
Summary: Watching the members of the Justice League from afar, you'd never have any idea that under the masks, they're just normal people. They live ordinary lives during the day, and they face ordinary problems just like the rest of us. But there are also other problems, problems ordinary people don't have to deal with. Problems that only heroes have to deal with.





	1. Superman/Kal-El/Clark Kent

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to my fic! I know I said this in the tags but just to reiterate and make darn sure everyone sees this: these stories are all _headcanons_. Please don't come complaining to me about your comic book lore, ok? I have not read every comic in existence. I'm just here to share some of my thoughts. Don't let that distract you from leaving comments though! Thank you and enjoy!

Clark Kent takes every opportunity to visit the Fortress of Solitude. These days he probably spends as much time there as he does in the Watchtower, or in Metropolis. He knows Lois doesn’t like it, and he feels bad about going there so often, but still he goes.

It’s _quiet_ in the Fortress. There’s no city outside the window, with its masses of chattering people and it screeching traffic. There’s no Justice League, no sounds of battle. There’s nothing. That’s why it’s called the Fortress of Solitude.

Clark’s super-hearing is a very useful power. He’s grateful to have it, and it’s gotten him and the other members of the League out of some very dangerous situations before. But he can’t turn it off.

He hears everything. Every clock chiming, every baby crying for attention, every rock concert, every sixth grade beginning band student sitting down to practice, every pair of lovers going down together. _All of it._

Most of the time, it all kinda blends together in the background as a sort of constant white noise. Most of it is indecipherable unless he focuses. But it’s still there, all the time. A whole planet’s worth of noise in his ears. The Fortress is quieter, but it’s still not silent.

He hasn’t known true silence since before he developed his super-hearing. He doesn’t remember what it’s like. Sometimes he fantasizes about flying off into deep space just to reexperience it.

But he can’t bring himself to leave Earth even for that long. Because he also hears every scream. Every bad thing happening to good people who don’t deserve it. Every crime in progress that he could stop, if he was there.

He can’t always be there. He can’t save everyone. He has to prioritize, he knows.The safety of the many over the few and all that. He has to trust the other heroes and the police to take care of their own territories. But it’s hard. It hurts him every time he has to ignore one of those screams because he’s busy at work, doing one of his two jobs. It’s always hard.

At the beginning, before he learned to control it properly, he had always been terrified that he’d give himself away somehow. That one day, sitting at his desk in the Daily Planet headquarters, someone would see something flash across his face and somehow they’d know. They’d expose him as Superman and then it’d all be over. It had been a genuine worry of his for years on end.

“I never even noticed,” Lois told him when he’d asked her about it.

“Not even once? Really?”

“Nope. And I don’t think anyone else has noticed anything either.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“No I’m not, I swear. They think you’re a strange one, that’s for sure, but not because of that.”

“That’s comforting,” he’d said, deliberately sarcastic.

“You’re welcome,” she’d replied sweetly, knowing he wasn’t actually mad. And of course he wasn’t.

No one else hears the way he does. Not Diana, or J’onn, fellow non-humans though they are. Not even any of the other Kryptonians he knows has this particular problem.

Kara is full Kryptonian. She could probably learn to develop her ears the same way he has. But he’s discouraged her from doing so. He doesn’t want her to have to bear this burden when he’s perfectly capable of handling it himself.

“Kara,” he told her one day, just after she became a full-fledged hero in her own right, “if anything ever happens to me, it’ll be up to you to learn to access your super-hearing. The League is going to need someone who can use that particular power.”

“Don’t talk like that,” she said, crossing her arms. “It’s depressing.”

“Maybe so, but it needs to be said. Earth needs a Kryptonian defender, Kara.”

“I know. And that’s you.”

“Kara, one day there will come a time when I don’t miraculously survive. There will be a time when I don’t come back.”

She’d looked him dead in the eyes, an angry teenage scowl on her face. “If I promise, will you let this go?”

“Yes.”

“Then I promise. I’ll do as you say.”

“Thank you.”

Since that conversation, there had been countless close calls and many times Clark was sure he was done for, for real this time. But he’d been lucky, and he always somehow wound up ok.

But Kara never once made any attempt to master her super hearing. He always made a point to ask her about it. And every time she answered him, “I knew you’d be fine. I knew you’d come back.”

Eventually he gave up arguing about it.

Clark sighed. He was letting his thoughts run away from him. There was no use complaining about his super hearing. He had it, and he wouldn’t give it up even if given the chance. As long as he could spend some time in the Fortress every now and again, he’d be fine.

It was probably time for him to start heading home, he thought. Lois would be waiting for him.

But surely she wouldn’t mind if he lingered in the quiet for just a few more minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clark is such an interesting character. I love digging into the deeper facets of his personality, beyond the whole 'I am perfect and have never done anything wrong, ever' facade that the public sees. (I really hate Lois Lane, though. I tried not to let that dumb bias into this fic, but dang. I hate her.)
> 
> Keep reading for Batman! -->


	2. Batman/Bruce Wayne

Bruce Wayne had spent several years insisting to various tabloid reporters that he had no intentions of settling down and raising a family of his own. Privately, he had spent almost twice as much time making the same argument to Alfred.

By now, most of the reporters had given him up as a lost cause. Every now and again one of them would put his name on one of those ‘Gotham’s most eligible bachelors’ lists, in an attempt to rekindle interest in the subject, but it never worked.

Alfred, on the other hand, had not given up. Merely switched tactics. The number of people on Bruce’s team kept growing, and Alfred insisted that Bruce start treating them less like coworkers, and more like family.

“Well, they’re not my family,” Bruce had told him. “Not most of them anyway. That whole ‘Bat Family’ thing wasn’t my idea.”

But Alfred wasn’t to be deterred. And suddenly, in addition to running Wayne Enterprises and being one of the leading members of the Justice League, Bruce kept finding himself thrown into increasingly awkward and embarrassing situations involving his various ‘family members.’

It started with small things. Stopping by the pharmacy after work to pick up Barbara’s perscription, or the grocery store, to buy milk and eggs. He didn’t mind little stuff like that, since they were all so busy and their various schedules didn’t always line up.

But after a while Alfred started asking him to do bigger things. Like taking Ace to the vet, attending parent-teacher conferences (for Stephanie, Cassandra, Damien, _and_ Duke), and teaching Harper how to properly file her taxes. Time consuming, domestic things that could easily have been taken care of by someone else. And that started to get annoying.

“Couldn’t we just hire someone to do her taxes for her?” he asked Alfred exasperatedly after several obscenity-filled texts from Harper.

“Master Bruce, you know as well as I do that it is an important skill to have,” Alfred answered in his usual calm voice while he diced vegetables for their dinner. “And if you are going to allow her to accompany you into dangerous situations every night, the least you can do for her is answer her questions.”

“Why can’t _you_ answer her questions?”

“Because, Master Bruce, I’m not the one out there in the bat costume watching her back.”

Privately, Bruce thought that that logic didn’t make a lick of sense. But Alfred’s tone invited no argument, so he held his tongue.

“Pennyworth,” Damien called, sticking his head through the kitchen doorway, “is it ok if I go to Metropolis this weekend?”

“I have no objections, Master Damien. But you should ask your father for permission.”

Damien made a face. “Can I go to Metropolis?” he asked a little louder.

“Mhm, sure,” Bruce said, distracted by Harper’s texts again. “Just keep your comm-”

“Keep my communication lines open. I know, I know, I got it.” He vanished back behind the door frame.

Bruce sighed and put his phone down. “Alfred, I have Watchtower duty next Monday. Would you mind packing me a bag?”

“Bruce Wayne is expected to give a speech that day, isn’t he Sir?”

Bruce groaned and put his face in his hands. “Can we cancel it?”

“No. But we may be able to reschedule it.”

“Ok, then let’s try to reschedule it for Wednesd-”

“Sir, you promised to meet with Mr. Gordon that day. Have you forgotten?”

“God damn it Alfred, then what day am I free this week?”

“Friday should do nicely.”

Bruce sighed. “Friday, then.”

“Very good, Sir,” said Alfred, giving a pot one last stir, turning of the stove, and ringing the bell that let anyone in the manor know that dinner was ready.

“What’s cookin’ tonight, Alfred?” Stephanie asked, bounding into the kitchen. “I’m starving.”

“Beef stew,” Alfred answered, presenting her with a steaming bowl.

“Ooh, my favorite,” Jason said, entering after Stephanie and sitting down at the kitchen table.

“Why do we never eat at the table in the actual dining room?” Damien grumbled.

“Too far from th’ stew,” Stephanie answered, already several bites into her stew.

“Alfred, you might as well put out another bowl,” Bruce said. “Harper says she’s coming over so I can check her paperwork.”

“Of course, Master Bruce.”

“And Damien, stop complaining. No one’s stopping you from using the dining room if you want, but we don’t really need to make this a formal affair, do we?”

“Yeah Dami, why don’ you go eat in th’ dark by yourself.”

“Stephanie, don’t talk with your mouth full.”

“Sorry, Bruce.”

Bruce looked up to find Alfred was giving him one of those smug looks that Bruce hated. The look that meant Bruce was proving his point for him.

Bruce sighed. He really hated it when Alfred was right. 

But he supposed there were worse things than having a large family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruce "sleeps an average of four hours every night" Wayne memes are my favorite, with Bruce "I work alone, please ignore my nine children, they don't count" Wayne memes coming in close second. Hopefully in the future I'll write for more of the Bat family!
> 
> Wonder Woman up next -->


	3. Wonder Woman/Diana Prince

Diana always seemed to be one step behind. From technological innovations to celebrity news and everything in between, she was always one step behind. She tried hard to keep up with current events in politics and things like that, since it was very important to her work, but even that was a struggle.

Her human friends and coworkers, the ones that knew her only as Diana Prince, thought her a rather eccentric woman who sometimes needed help working her iphone and was only interested in the era of the Ancient Greeks for some reason. And that didn’t really bother her.

What bothered her was not understanding the world she lived in. What bothered her was her companions in the League constantly having to brief her on what was happening and why it was relevant. What bothered her was constantly needing to seek out help to work the newest gadgets issued before a mission. 

Especially when the only one available was Bruce.

“Yes,” she said through gritted teeth, “I understand what powers the device. What I need to know is how _I_ am supposed to work it.”

“I thought it was obvious.”

Diana closed her eyes willing herself to be patient. “Would I be asking you about it if it was really that obvious?!”

“Hey, Bruce!” Barry’s voice called out from behind them, forestalling any response on Batman’s part. 

“What is it?”

“Oliver was looking for you. He had a question about some intel or something.”

“Well, tell him I’ll be there as soon as I’m done with-”

“Oh no,” Barry said, doing his best impression of polite, “I can handle this. Don’t even worry about it, you just go help Ollie with whatever it is. Go on, now.”

“Oh, alright then. Thanks.”

Bruce walked away, cape flapping behind him, and both Diana and Barry breathed a sigh of relief.

“Ok, now what seems to be the problem?”

“This, this new communicator,” Diana said, holding it out in front of her. “How do I work this?”

Barry took it from her and pointed. “This button opens the channel for you to talk to the rest of us. This button mutes the channel, in case you need to be sneaky and can’t have chatter accidentally giving away your position. This little bit here will flash if someone’s trying to get your attention.”

“ _Thank_ you,” Diana said, taking the communicator back. “That’s all I needed to know.”

“You’re welcome. Next time I’ll try to warn Bruce before he does something like that. He didn’t mean it, you know.”

“I know.” Diana sighed. “I know.”

She thanked Barry, told the hero on duty that she was leaving, and headed home. It had been a long day and she was ready to unwind a little.

But when she opened her front door she found a surprise waiting for her inside: Cassie was sitting on her couch, knees pulled up to her chest and eyes red from crying.

“Oh,” she said when she saw Diana, “Oh, I’m sorry, Diana, I didn’t mean to...I didn’t think you’d be back for a while.”

“Is everything alright, Cassie?”

“Mmm.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Cassie hesitated, but then inclined her head. “There was a boy in my class today getting picked on. I got mad, and I confronted the ones picking on him, but then they started saying stuff about me for no reason. So, I kinda….I pushed one of them. I didn’t mean to push him hard, but, y’know. Guess I don’t know my own strength.” She shrugged, looking miserable. “I got in trouble. I never get in trouble at school. But the principal yelled at me and everything.”

Diana went over and sat down next to Cassie on the couch, putting an arm around her shoulders and squeezing comfortingly. “I don’t think you did anything wrong.”

Cassie sniffed. “Thanks, Diana. I’m sorry for coming here, but I didn’t want any of the Titans to see me like this.”

“It’s ok. I don’t mind.”

“I know it’s a stupid thing to get worked up about. It’s just…. They were picking on him for liking boys. That’s such a stupid reason! It doesn’t even matter! And I know what we do is important, saving the world and all that, but no matter what I can’t just change those bullies’ minds, and I’m just so frustrated about it…”

Diana nodded, rubbing Cassie’s shoulders. “I know what you mean. I get frustrated too.”

“Really?”

“Of course. I remember a simpler time, when men were not so concerned with trivial things like that. I’m not sure what went wrong, what changed. And I often wonder, if I had chosen to leave Themyscira sooner, and had more of a presence in the world of men, if I could have prevented that change.

“But that line of thinking is useless, Cassie. It is important to remember that we are not responsible for the failings of men. We are simply here to keep them safe while they learn to address these failings on their own. And I have faith that they will.”

“Ok. I think I understand.” Cassie gave her a watery smile. “Thank you, Diana.”

Diana smiled back. “You’re very welcome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to keep these short, under 1000 words each. I wanted to do more for this one, but I don't have enough info, so this'll have to do for now.
> 
> That's the big three done! I plan to do more, don't worry. If there's a particular character you'd like to see, feel free to suggest it in the comment section! Thanks for reading this far!


	4. The Flash/Barry Allen

Barry Allen knows entirely too much about his fellow Justice League members. When they fight together, and he runs, it seems to him as if they are standing still. He’s spent a lot of time running around them, watching them, doing his best to keep them out of harm’s way.

He’s a trained csi agent, after all. It’s his job to notice the little details. Details like the birthmark on the inside of Diana’s left thigh. Or the slight scar on Bruce’s chin, likely an old reminder from a long-ago knife fight. The startling blue of Clark’s eyes, still visible even when he uses his heat vision, if you look from the right angle. Barry notices things like this even as he pulls bullets from the air and redirects the path of weapons and fists.

Tiny little things like that are things you notice about a lover. Barry feels weird knowing so much about his comrades. Especially since there’s no way they know as much about him. Double especially because they don’t _know_ that he knows, because he hasn’t told them. Because that’d make it even weirder. 

He probably shouldn’t have been thinking about this kind of thing in the middle of a fight. But it was just a couple of armed thugs looking to make some quick money, so, y’know. No big deal. And Clark is with them, so that’s one person he doesn’t even have to worry about.

But Oliver was also there, and he wasn’t bulletproof, no matter how much he’d like to pretend he was. Barry had to watch him carefully, make sure he was safely behind cover before turning his attention to the shooters themselves.

“Better luck next time, fellas,” Barry said, skidding to a stop and watching as their assailants squawk with surprise at suddenly finding their guns across the room and their hands tied behind their backs.

“Nice job, Flash.” Clark casually brushed some dust off his cape. “The police will be along shortly, gentlemen,” he said to the thugs. “I hope you’ll be cooperative.”

With that he turned on his heel and walked away, Barry and Oliver quickly falling into step behind him.

“I will never understand why they still think guns will have any effect,” Clark said musingly as the three of them emerged out onto a bustling Star City street.

“They attacked a town hall meeting, in the middle of the day,” Oliver reminded him. “Clearly they’re not very smart.”

“Clearly.” Clark sighed, raising a hand in acknowledgement to the crowd of reporters and other fans rapidly closing in on them. “I can handle this, you two go on ahead.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“Ok, thanks.” Barry was not one to have to be told twice. He and Oliver headed off down the street in the opposite direction, and the reporters let them go. That’s how it was when Superman was around.

“Thanks for coming, Barry,” Oliver said once they were far enough away. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem. I was in the area.”

“Well, I was in the middle of something before all this started, so if you don’t mind…?”

“Nah, ‘course not. I’ll see you later.”

Oliver nodded gratefully and ducked away down a side street. Barry watched him go; he had never mastered the whole ‘fade into the shadows’ thing, a source of constant disappointment for him. He supposed having a dark-colored hood to pull up and cover your face would probably help.

Somewhere nearby, possibly from the town hall they’d just come from, a clock struck twelve thirty. Barry groaned. He was expected at the Central City police department soon; he wouldn’t have time for a meal before going into work after all.

The thought put a scowl on his face as he started running back home. He currently had a healthy supply of special power bars and other quick snacks designed to cope with his insane metabolism in his pantry, but grabbing a quick bite was always less preferable than sitting down to a real meal.

That was another thing he was sure his fellow heroes didn’t know about him. How constantly, desperately hungry he was. Sure, the more science-minded ones knew that using his power expended a lot of energy, but knowing that is one thing and experiencing real hunger on a daily basis is another thing entirely.

Barry had realized early on that saying “I’m hungry” after every mission wasn’t accomplishing anything. It wasn’t getting him food any quicker, and it just got on everyone’s nerves. So he made a point not to bring it up. But the moment he took off his costume, he was on his way to the nearest kitchen, looking for something to eat. He was haunted by the thought that one day he wouldn’t have time to eat at all, and he’d collapse in the middle of a fight or something. He had no idea of knowing when that might happen.

It wouldn’t be today. But someday, maybe someday soon, the rest of the League might unexpectedly find themselves learning a little more about him than they wanted to.

Well. If that did happen, at least everyone would get to share in the awkwardness, instead of keeping it all to himself. Small comfort though that was, he supposed it’d have to be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (thinking of writing a full-length, more detailed Flash fic someday, if I ever get my life together. Shh, don't tell anyone) That's chapter 4! Thinking of doing Ollie next, but I'm always open to requests if anyone has any. Thanks for reading!


	5. Green Arrow/Oliver Queen

Oliver Queen makes all of his own arrows. Every single one of them. The pre-made ones just can’t handle everything he needs them to.

So he buys all the supplies in bulk, sits down on the floor of a warehouse he keeps empty specifically for arrow-making purposes, and makes them himself. It is an extremely time-consuming process, one that’s never truly over. At any given time, there’s probably at least a few open crates of fletchings and arrowheads sitting around, waiting for him to put them together.

The other members of his team also take advantage of the Arrow Factory, as Roy calls it. They come and go as they please, taking whatever supplies they need, and leaving the rest for the next person who comes along.

Making new arrows, as well as salvaging and repairing old ones, is a necessary part of what they do. But it is not one of the more enjoyable parts.

“I hate this,” Oliver said grumpily, reaching his hand into a box of arrowheads.

“We _know_.” Connor frowned at him. “You’ve been saying that every five minutes for the past, like, three hours.”

“Well, I hated it three hours ago, and I hate it now.”

“I don’t know,” Roy said absently from his seat near the open package of shafts, “I kinda like it. There’s something sort of zen about it, y’know?”

“No. I don’t relate. There is absolutely nothing relaxing about sitting in an empty warehouse for three hours, doing the same mindless tasks over and ov-”

“Oliver, I sure hope you’re not doing this ‘mindlessly’,” Dinah snapped. “These arrows are literally your only weapons, and if one of them is made poorly…”

“I know, I know. Sorry.”

“If you don’t fix your attitude right now, I’m leaving.”

“I said I was sorry!”

Dinah gave him an angry look, but didn’t press the issue. Oliver sighed, and didn’t press it either. It was nice of her to be helping, since she didn’t use arrow-powered weapons. And he didn’t want her to leave, since it would be even more boring without her. So he tried to keep his complaints to himself.

But without his complaining, the only sounds in the warehouse were the sounds of each of them working, metal clinking and fletchings ruffling. The others were concentrating, but to Oliver the quiet was unbearable.

“Soooo, Roy. What are you up to lately?”

“Huh?” Roy shrugged. “Well, you know. The usual.”

“The usual?”

“What do you want, a blow-by-blow report of all the bad guys I’ve dealt with recently?”

“I was just trying to make small talk. It’s the first time in a while we’ve all been together. I don’t know, I just thought it might be nice to talk a little. Like a real family.”

Roy snorted and across the room, Connor rolled his eyes. 

“We’re not a real family,” he reminded Oliver pointedly.

“Yeah, yeah, I know that. My fault, you can blame that one on me. But...it’s not too late to try acting like a family, you know.”

“I think it actually might be a _little_ late for that.”

Oliver sighed and gave up, making a mental note to ask Bruce what his secret was. It wasn’t that he didn’t care for the others on his team, as they seemed to think. It was that he didn’t know how to get through to them, how to tell them how he felt about them. He didn’t have the words.

This kind of thing did not come naturally to him. He didn’t trust easily. He wasn’t the most open person, or the most forgiving. Or the most eloquent. He was just some guy with a hood and a bow.

Roy and Connor shared his drive, his resolve. But he wondered sometimes if that was truly all they shared.

“Why don’t we take a break,” Dinah said. Oliver glanced up; she was looking at him. She could probably tell how he was feeling, just from looking. She was so much better at that kind of thing than him.

“We’re almost done here,” Roy protested.

“Three hours work without a break is a long time. I think you’ve all earned a break.” Dinah put down the half-finished arrows in her hands and stood up. “I have some hot cocoa back at the hideout, if you’re interested.”

“But...it’s the middle of May.”

“So what? It’s always cold enough in that hideout to drink cocoa.”

“I’d like some,” Oliver said, hoping he was playing along properly. “Cocoa sounds great right about now.”

“We could bring some back for you two, if you’d rather,” Dinah said, winking at Oliver when he gave her a look of protest, silently asking him to trust her.

Connor hesitated, but then he too set aside his work. “No, you don’t have to do that. I’ll come along.”

“Ugh, fine,” Roy said, “But there had better be some of those little marshmallows.”

“I have extra,” Dinah assured him, smiling.

Oliver chuckled. He guessed that if Dinah was able to understand his feelings without him having to talk about them out loud, he’d have to trust that the rest of his team had at least some idea of how he felt about them. Until he could find the words to say it to them directly, that would have to be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Hey M," you may ask, "what earth is this happening on?" Well, the answer is whichever one Oliver and Dinah are married on. I love the relationship between those two, I think they're really cute. Mostly because Ollie is super socially awkward and Dinah is a part-time psychologist, so she gets him better than anyone else. She probably understands him more than he does himself, and I think it's adorable.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	6. Black Canary/Dinah Lance

Dinah Lance has scars. A lot of them. So many that it’s getting hard to keep track of them all.

Some of them are small- left on her skin by knives, darts, teeth. All kinds of things. Some of them are larger, more recognizable. Scars left by bullets, explosions, sword-wielding maniacs. A few burns. Her leg had been run over by a motorcycle once, that had left an interesting pattern on her thigh.

She’s not ashamed of her scars. On the contrary, she’s quite proud of most of them. They serve as reminders of what she’s been through in the name of helping others. She’s _earned_ those scars.

Most of the others in the League have scars, too. You can learn a lot about someone from their skin, from the marks left behind by past battles. It gives you an idea as to where they’ve been. She loves hearing her fellow heroes tell the stories behind their scars.

But Dinah doesn’t spend all her time in the Watchtower. She doesn’t live her whole life in that Black Canary outfit. Sometimes, she’s just Dinah, an ordinary woman, an ordinary member of society. And society does not approve of scars, especially not on women.

The Black Canary, martial arts expert, experienced combat veteran, and founding member of the Justice League, is not inclined to give a damn what society approves of. But Dinah Lance, ordinary woman and participating member of society, doesn’t have much of a choice.

Men see a woman with scars as unattractive at best, threatening or dangerous at worst. Other women aren’t any better; most of them seem to think her scars are somehow inappropriate. 

At first, she had been determined to do anything she could to fight the absurd prejudice she found herself falling victim to. But eventually the snide comments and incredulous questions got so annoying that she started covering up whenever she went outside. Hiding as much skin as possible, even in the summer. Perhaps, for a time, she had even started to believe what the rest of society believed; that her scars were better off left hidden.

Now she was older, a little wiser, and even more scarred up. Now, most of the time, she tried to seek a middle ground between the two extremes of conforming or rebelling. She accepted that she wasn’t enough to change an entire society’s mindset by herself, but she also didn’t go out of her way to cover up if it would be uncomfortable or bothersome.

It’s not ideal. But it’s what she’s got, and she’s learned to live with it.

Dinah also spends a lot of time with the younger members of the various League offshoots; the kids and teens that have somehow or other gotten themselves mixed up in the kind of life that leaves scars. She trains with them, she supervises them, but most importantly, she talks to them. And she encourages them to be open with her. When they speak, she listens.

She always makes a point to ask them about their scars. The answers she’s received have provided her with mixed results.

“Oh, sure, I often wish I could get rid of them,” said Zatanna, self-consciously tugging at her sleeve. “But there’s nothing I can do about it. It’d take way too much energy to cover them up with magic every day. So I guess I’d better learn to live with them.”

“I told a boy that I got this one from a shark,” joked Artemis. “Now half the school thinks I’ve single handedly defeated a Great White, and the other half thinks I enjoy fishing as a hobby. You know how it is with rumors and such… what can you do, y’know?”

“They don’t bother me on principle,” shrugged Cassie. “Whenever someone asks me about them, I usually just tell them to mind their own business. Not very polite, I know, but it really isn’t any concern of theirs.”

As it turned out, it wasn’t just the girls struggling with society’s perception of their scars. Several of their male counterparts had complained about it to Dinah as well.

“The lying is the worst part,” sighed Tim. “Obviously we can’t explain the real circumstances behind the scars, so we have to laugh it off and say, ‘I burned myself on a hair dryer, how stupid, right?’ It is stupid. I just wish I could tell them the truth.”

“My teachers are weird about it,” said Wally. “Whenever one of them sees one of my big scars, like the one on my shoulder, you know the one, they act like I should be covering it up. Like, they think I shouldn’t be ok with it, and don’t get why I’m not. It’s weird.”

“I think it’s partially tied to race,” confessed Calder. “Because obviously a young person of my color, who also happens to have scars, can’t be up to anything good. Maybe it’s not a conscious choice to think that way, but most people still do. That’s why I prefer to cover up.”

Dinah was glad that, regardless of their personal opinions, most of the young heroes seemed to at least understand their situations. That was the best she could hope for, for now. Until society learned to move past this stupid bias. Until they no longer had to hide their scars.

She just really hoped she’d be around to see the day when that was the case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let this chapter serve as a reminder to us all; to be tolerant, accepting, respectful, and kind. (Unless someone tells you they got a scar by fighting a shark, that person is clearly lying to you and you should be suspicious.)
> 
> EDIT: It's been a while since I last updated this fic by now. I got busy with other things and I moved on and...I kinda said most of what I wanted to say here anyway, I think. So at this time I don't really have any concrete plans to continue this one, but I'll leave it unfinished just in case. If by some miracle someone actually wants to request a character, I'll do my best to write up a little something, I guess. Thanks for reading, and my sincerest apologies for cutting this one short!


End file.
